


Insecurities

by Love_and_Mote



Category: NCIS RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Episode Tag, F/M, You'll see what I mean, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_and_Mote/pseuds/Love_and_Mote
Summary: Michael has been filming "Family First," which includes scenes in which Tony believes Ziva is dead. Transference happens and he needs reassurance that Cote is alive and well. This probably actually happened.





	Insecurities

She was pulled from her sleep by the sound of the lock clicking in the door, the sound reverberating through the quiet of her space in the dead of the night.

Only two people had a key to her place: the housekeeper, and Michael, and neither of them were likely candidates to come over at this hour, well after she’d gone to sleep. Still, she sat up in the bed, calling out the name of the more likely of the two. “Michael?” she called, waiting for his response to allay her fears that someone had somehow gotten hold of a key to her place – and the access code – and had let themselves in.

“Yeah?” he called back, and she sighed with relief, sinking back down on the bed. He would make his way to her, and she could relax, though she wondered what it was that had driven him to come see her in the middle of the night without calling or texting first.

She reached for her phone. Maybe he had and she simply hadn’t heard it. She checked it, however, and found it free of any notification, indicating that he’d simply come on over. Was something wrong?

Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark just as he appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, and he looked a wreck. Immediately she could tell that he’d been crying and she wondered what had happened. She shot out of bed, ignoring the cool night air, crossing to him and taking him in her arms. “What happened?” she asked, immediately feeling the warmth of his embrace as he pulled her tight, wrapping his arms around her and holding on for dear life.

“You’re here,” he said, choking back a sob and running his hands up her back, then to her neck, and eventually to her face, pulling away and gazing into her eyes as if he hadn’t been entirely convinced of it until this exact moment. His thumb grazed her cheek as he ran his hands softly over her face, caressing her gently and sighing with relief. “You’re here,” he repeated, and now she was growing even more concerned.

“Of course I am,” she replied, urging him to confide in her. “What happened?” she asked again.

“Filming,” he replied, reaching for her hair and running his fingers through it, again as if he was confirming she was still real. “We were filming my final episode. Where they have to find a suitable reason for Tony to leave. He believes Ziva’s dead. That she was killed in an explosion. And in order to get there, to feel that sense of panic, I had to…” he trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish explaining. She knew.

“You were thinking about how you would feel if that were me,” she said softly, and he nodded, confirming her statement. “Oh, _Michael,”_ she breathed, leaning into him and letting him envelop her in his arms. “I’m here,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Nothing has happened to me.”

“God, Cote, it was just…” he took a shaky breath, and she could tell that he was fighting to keep from crying again. “I don’t know how I’d… if you…”

Finally the dam burst, and his entire body was shaking with the outpouring of the emotions he’d kept bottled for entirely too long. Filming was often taxing, but this was the first time he’d felt such raw emotion after playing a scene. He’d really had to imagine how he’d feel if he had lost her, the woman who had become his entire existence.

“I’m _here,”_ she repeated, more emphatically this time, trying to reassure him of her presence, her continued existence. She, too, was crying, his own outpouring of emotion taking her to the same place. What if…

She sucked in a deep, ragged breath. She couldn’t even think about it. Couldn’t begin to contemplate losing him. It was already hard enough right now, what with his family always looming over their heads like a dark cloud ready to burst over their relationship. The last thing she needed was to worry about what would happen if he were gone, suddenly and eternally.

 _Too late,_ she realized, and she choked back her own sob. “I’m here,” he replied, sensing her sudden shift in mood immediately and wanting to reassure her. God, but they were a pair, weren’t they?

“I can’t imagine my life without you,” she said suddenly, her tears glistening in her eyes. “Damn it, Michael, I want it to be _me_ you come home to every night. I am tired of having to share you, of wondering if I will live my entire life in the shadow of your marriage and worrying whether I will ever be able to just _be_ with you. Nothing hanging over us. Not worrying whether something will happen and the last time I saw you would be the last time. To be the only one you love–”

“You _are_ the only one I love,” he interrupted, unable to take this verbal lashing any further. “I want those things too, you know,” he said, stroking her hair and looking into her eyes, his heart wrenching at the tears he saw there.

“I know,” she replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “But when? When?”

 _When._ That had been the question for so long. When could they be together, not just in secret? When would he finally be able to end the loveless marriage he was in and be with the woman he actually loved? When would he be free to escape this prison of his own making?

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, knowing immediately that this feeble answer would eventually cease to hold any water. He was terrified of losing her, in so many ways. What if she eventually got tired of waiting around for him? He loved her, and she knew that, but what if that stopped being enough?

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, and she knew that there was more than one meaning embedded there. Michael had his own insecurities to deal with, despite the bravado and fame, he truly just wanted to be loved and appreciated. Beyond his looks, beyond his success. He worried that he wasn’t good enough for her, that she would wake up one day and see some imaginary light that led her away from his arms.

“You’re stuck with me, _cheri,”_ she teased him, her eyes glistening through her tears. Because of everything – no, _despite_ everything – she would be by his side, ready to wage war against the world if that meant keeping him there.

“Promise?” he asked, drawing back and gazing at her, searching her eyes for signs of the truth she held there.

“Promise,” she breathed, reaching for his cheek and drawing him down to her, sealing her word with a soft, slow kiss, their lips parting together and their breathing as one. They pulled apart slowly, reluctantly, and he leaned his forehead down to hers, sighing softly. “Come to bed,” she added, reaching down to take his hand and squeezing it gently.

“I can’t,” he said, immediately regretting his words but unable to stop himself from continuing. “I just needed to…see, to touch you, to know you’re real, but–”

“Michael,” she interrupted, her voice a warning in the darkness. _“Please,”_ she begged, and in that instant his mind was made up. She needed him, too. She needed to know that he was here, that he was real and tangible and that he would be by her side when she needed him the most. He may have his insecurities and worries, but Cote was not without her own.  

“All right,” he answered, all of the wind suddenly sucked out of him. Tonight had been exhausting, in more ways than one, and to spend it with his arms wrapped tightly around the woman he loved, well… how could he deny himself that simple pleasure? He would make up some excuse tomorrow. It was late, he’d fallen asleep in his trailer. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A new thought blew in like a dark cloud screeching over the horizon: But when would it be the last?

She interrupted his thoughts, as if she sensed that he was once again going down a dark path. “Just hold me,” she breathed, pulling him toward the bed and lifting the covers to invite him in. He kicked his shoes off and stripped to his boxers, climbing into the bed and pressing his body against hers, the heat of her body instantly calming him. Cote kept him from falling over the edge, she always had. He kissed her bare shoulder and settled against her, his weariness leaving him as soon as he breathed in the scent of her hair as she burrowed into the pillow.

“Good night,” he breathed against her skin, his lips teasing slightly. Perhaps another night it might have turned sultry, their hands wandering and their bodies tensing, but tonight what he needed from her was comfort, and it was comfort she had offered in the latest hours of the morning, where all the demons lurked.

“Good night,” she responded, squeezing the hand that had found its way around her waist. She turned her head to meet his gaze, glancing down at his lips and smiling softly. “I love you,” she added, lifting her head to kiss him gently, her heart fluttering at his instantaneous response to her touch.

He brushed a hair off her forehead and pulled away, settling his head on the pillow behind her. “I love you too,” he replied, reveling in the simplicity of falling into bed with this woman and feeling warmed to the very soul.

 _She is here,_ he reminded himself, taking a deep breath and pulling her closer to him. _She is here and she is mine._ “Mine,” she said sleepily, as if she had been reading his thoughts, and he let out a singular amused breath at that, closing his eyes and holding his woman safe as she slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading.


End file.
